“And what has this man got to show that is so remarkable?”
“In the first place his intelligence, inventive genius and energy; in the second, certain lucky speculations in houses and lands, of which the crowning point is certainly the starting of our railway.”
“Now it is quite clear to me why your shareholders are always lamenting so loudly that you build so extravagantly,” said the Count, with a sarcastic smile.
“What do the poor devils understand about it?” answered the Councillor; “if they settled matters we should have to take the roasted chestnuts out of the fire without getting anything for it.”
“Then there is fire?”
“Before which a man in his old age may warm his knees with much pleasure!”
And the Councillor waved his hand towards all the magnificence around them. The Count laughed, the Councillor himself thought that a smile was allowable. Philip came out of his study and shut the door behind him.
“I hope you will not mind,” said he in a low voice, turning to the Count, “but I thoughtlessly mentioned your name, and my business friend begged so earnestly—”
“Who is it?” said the Count.
“Herr Hugo Lübbener.”
The Count changed colour slightly and cast a quick furtive glance at the Councillor, who however met it unmoved.
“My banker,” said the Count.
“He did not tell me that!” cried Philip; “then certainly I may venture.”
“I shall be very happy,” said the Count rather crossly.
“This all fits in wonderfully,” whispered the Councillor to him, while Philip called through the door which he had left open into the study.
“Come in, you most discreet of men! I should have thought that the firm stood so well with the Count—”
“As well as the Count stands with the firm!” said Herr Hugo Lübbener as he came in. “Excuse my freedom, Count Golm, seeing you have not honoured me.”
“Why, I assure you, I have not had time yet,” exclaimed the Count, taking in the tips of his fingers the hand which Herr Lübbener offered somewhat timidly. “A world of business—”
“We can understand that, living in the business world as we do, can we not, Councillor?” said Herr Lübbener. “But now that I have had the honour and pleasure I will not stay a moment longer.”
And he moved to the door; the Count glanced at the Councillor, who lifted his eyebrows.
“You are not going on my—our account, Herr Lübbener,” said the Count; “we are here to admire the splendid collection of our kind host.”
“Whose greatest admirer and appreciater is Herr Lübbener himself,” put in the Councillor.
“Because I possess a few good things?” said Herr Lübbener. “Why, by Jove! a man must patronise art or at least the artists nowadays. Our friend Schmidt always fishes the best things away under our noses. Yesterday this Riefstahl was in Lepke’s window, now of course it hangs here. What did you give for it?”
“What do you think?”
“Not more than half, I am sure.”
Philip laughed as if he heard the old stockbroker joke for the first time; the Councillor cackled hoarsely like an old hen in rainy weather; the Count appeared highly amused.
“What would you have?” said he; “such a picture is really invaluable.”
Philip turned the light of the reflector upon the picture, which now showed all its beauty for the first time.
“Really magnificent!” said the Count.
He had stepped a little nearer so that he himself was in the light of the lamp. The appearance of the Count standing there in the full light seemed to have something peculiarly comic for the three other men who were standing a little back. They glanced quickly at each other, and each face wore a malicious smile. The Councillor laid his finger on his long nose; Philip bit his lip.
“I have a Hildebrandt here,” said he, “which I consider may be called the gem of my collection.”
“At all events it is in his best style,” said the Count.
They went from picture to picture, criticising and naming great artists, and not less great sums, till Philip, foreseeing danger to his plans, grew impatient.
“I do not know why,” said he, “but nothing seems so good as usual today.”
“It was just the same with me when I was a boy, I always thought my exercises were faultless till they came into the master’s hands,” said the Councillor.
“You really make too much of my small powers of criticising,” said the Count in his best humour. “Why! are we not at the end yet?”
They were at the door of the dining-room, which the servants at that moment opened.
“You will find a few more pictures here,” said Philip, “but before you look at them I must beg you to take some supper.”
“Or the oysters will be cold,” said Herr Lübbener.
“I begged there might be no ceremony,” said the Count reproachfully as he took his place at table with the others.
“Not at all, Count Golm; the servants got the oysters from the nearest restaurant—and there is always a chicken to be found in a bachelor’s kitchen.”
“Long live the bachelors!” said the Councillor, lifting his glass.
“But how are they to do it?” cried Philip, swallowing an oyster.
“From hand to mouth!” said Herr Lübbener, who was busy in the same way.
“For heaven’s sake, Lübbener!” cried Philip, “if you have no pity for us, at least spare Count Golm!”
“I think I can appreciate a good joke as well as the rest of you,” said the Count.
“Listen to that!” exclaimed Herr Lübbener. “Come, Schmidt, forget your vexation! The fact is I came to tell him that with the best will in the world, I cannot allot him shares in the New Kaiserin-Königin for more than about a hundred thousand.”
“If you say another word about business you shall not have a drop more of my Chablis,” cried Philip.
“I was just going to ask for a glass of Bordeaux,” answered Herr Lübbener.
The Councillor laughed aside to the Count, and shrugged his shoulders as
